


Baby you make me hot like an oven

by zimriya



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, The chaebol au, and I will never finish it, because its an au of an au, references to f(x) and snsd and many other ppl, unrealistic rom com circumstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: The first time is honestly an accident. Yunho didn’t mean to trip and pull the fire alarm: he was pushed. The second time it happens, he has nothing to do with it, because it’s an actual drill. But the fifth time. The fifth, seventh, and eighth times might be on purpose. But it’s not his fault. It’s just, Shim Changmin looks really, really good just out of the shower. And also, it might be war.





	Baby you make me hot like an oven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [namuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/namuu/gifts).



> For @peachshim, because of [this beautiful thread](https://twitter.com/peachshim/status/902293054266032128) XD. Also for Jess, because she’s been on Chaebolshinki’s side since she learned it sort of existed. Title from Shower by Becky G b/c it was sooo apt. 
> 
> Betaed by Laura, who is the best and owns a fabulous and wonderful cat. Also yes, my friend (who is in my phone as [Spiders Georg](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/902303117529755648)) totally helped me with the college accuracy. I feel like it will be very obvious which school this is set at for some ppl but like. I never named it so YOLO. All other mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Disclaimer: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME YOU WILL GET ARRESTED. WE ARE GOING TO SUSPEND BELIEF B/C ROMANTIC COMEDIES AND ALSO I ALREADY MADE TWO DETAILED TIMELINE CHARTS OF WHEN SHIT WENT DOWN IN THIS FIC BUT JUST. Don’t do this at home kids fire alarms are very serious and important things and not to be used for wooing the hot freshman from the floor below you. 
> 
> (Also, just imagine Jung Yanghyun CEO of Jung Medical playing hilarious phonetag with the President of the College and also someone important in NYC Govt b/c his idiot son keeps pulling the fire alarm to woo Shim Changmin.)
> 
> There is an image in this. As always, as a serial reader on my phone, landscape mode you should be good for no random scrolling to the side etc.

**Baby you make me hot like an oven**

\--

The first time is honestly by accident.

It’s 4AM, Yunho is potentially buzzed, and Heechul-hyung has come to visit all the way from Seoul for reasons that Yunho knew when his hyung arrived to campus, but are currently escaping him now. They’re in the hallway laughing over something on Heechul-hyung’s phone, being louder than they really should be for 4AM, and really, it’s not Yunho’s fault that he pulls the fire alarm.

If anything, it’s _Heechul-hyung’s_ fault. Heechul-hyung is the one who shoved him, even if it was a loving shove, and Heechul-hyung is therefore the reason Yunho goes flailing across the too small hallway and slams his entire palm against the fire alarm. His arms windmill. His shoes squeak against the tiles. It’s all very Buster Keaton.

The ensuing panic, grumbling, and stampede of angry and recently roused student charges--less so.

More Charlie Chaplin, Yunho’d say, as Heechul-hyung has to right him at least five times on the way down the first two flights of stairs.

It’s a miracle Yunho manages to remain calm enough to even try to make note of the bits of his floor around them. They’re not technically supposed to do a proper count until they’re all out of the building and safe, but technically speaking Yunho knows there is no fire because Yunho fell on the fire alarm. Also, it’s not like he wants to do most of his counting on the sidewalk anyway; Yunho has like fifty-two total students, and no doubt most of them are going to wander off before he gets down there.

“You’re a sorry excuse for an RA,” Heechul-hyung scolds in Korean, voice carrying because they’re still in the stairwell. Who the hell convinced Yunho that accepting the 12th floor was a decent thing to do since he’d been on the 13th floor when he was a freshman? That person needs to be murdered.

“Hush, Hyung,” Yunho says, also in Korean, fully aware that some of his more awake freshmen are looking at him oddly.

Heechul-hyung’s arrival Sunday morning had been odd and exciting enough on its own, because apparently Heechul-hyung was doing some sort of art thing in New York, and apparently Heechul-hyung had decided to take a taxi from JFK to campus, and apparently the fact that Jung Yunho, Floor 12’s cool RA, had a male friend staying over was downright gossip worthy.

After a few more painful minutes in the stairwells--and a rather loud, crowing ruckus from a few floors up that Yunho would be curious about if he could do more than try to keep track of his students and not fall flat on his face, they all file out onto the sidewalk in front of the entrance. Almost all the RAs are already here except for Floor 13’s, as usual, and several of the lower levels. Yunho ends up standing next to Floor 10’s RA, who fills Yunho in on the gossip about what’s up. Yunho very politely smiles and doesn’t mention it wasn’t a freshmen prank and was in fact Yunho himself.

“It’s too early in the year for pranks, man,” says Floor 10’s RA, yawning and slapping a hand to Yunho’s shoulder a few times good naturedly. “Let’s hope it’s also the last. Knock on wood.”

Yunho’s semi-buzzed brain is not okay with language switching and idioms right now, so he just smiles and shakes his head in return. The guy moves on.

Technically, it could be early enough in the semester that pranks are reasonable. 4AM might be a stretch, since Yunho’s memories from his Freshman year are mostly 9PM drills, which were still annoying but at least fewer people were likely to be in the dorm. Besides, when _Yunho_ was a freshman, he very distinctly remembers an entire _week_ of fire drill pranks, which left most of his floor begging him to let them tag along to go hang out with his friends in their dorms. Hyukjae and Donghae had rolled their eyes, but they and their friends had been pretty receptive to the promise of booze and pretty girls.

Heechul-hyung makes his presence known by whistling, making a point to be under his breath but still managing to make Yunho jump. “Damn,” he says in Korean. “Yurobbong. How many of these are yours, again?”

“Fifty-two,” Yunho says promptly, even though he can already see a few of his making their way across campus holding their phones. He doesn’t feel bad about letting them go, since he knows for sure there is no fire. To be fair, at this point, it’s very clear there’s no fire, but protocol is still protocol, and everyone is stuck here until campus security and the fire department clear them all to go back in.  

The RA from Floor 3 looks particularly annoyed, but she still rolls her eyes playfully at Yunho when they make eye contact. She’s blonde, almost as tall as Heechul-hyung, and somehow manages to be active in her sorority and compete with Yunho himself for the highest grade point average in the Junior Year class.

“Pretty,” Heechul-hyung says, popping the consonant sounds in a way that makes Yunho want to say fuck this and stomp very pointedly on his bare feet.

He does another cursory count of who’s left from his floor, trying to smile in a way that comes across as comforting and in charge and not I am the reason you’re all standing out here in pajamas and underwear.

And then the ruckus from before makes itself known in the form of Floor 11’s RA, Shim Changmin, pushing his way rather angrily through the entrance doors wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around himself.

Someone whistles.

Shim Changmin’s entire floor files out behind him looking a mix of annoyed, gleeful, and broken inside.

One of the girls on Yunho’s floor--the one who stress bakes a lot and always blushes when Yunho smiles at her around campus--makes a particularly pained sounding noise.

Heechul-hyung scoffs, bemused, but Yunho agrees.

His experiences with Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin prior to Junior Year  had been limited to word of mouth and Facebook, because if having a 16 year old in your Freshman class wasn’t notable enough, the kid had also been one of the few international students in Yunho’s year. They’d spoken maybe once at the start of classes, where Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin refused to speak to him in English and ran off like Yunho was the devil himself.

His experiences with Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin as Floor 12’s RA had been much of the same. They’d both been CCed on the awkward emails they’d been roped into sending out when they all signed up as RAs and they’d both attended the beginning of year dorm walk-through to go over dorm and building policies, but Yunho had been too harried at the prospect of Law School to do more than regurgitate rules and regulations.

His experiences with Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin as of _this_ moment in time are quite different.

Because Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin, it turns out, is incredibly good looking just out of the shower. His hair is falling into his eyes and across his too-large-to-be-pretty-but-somehow-incredibly-pretty ears, his too-wide-to-be-pretty-but-somehow-really-fucking-pretty mouth is turned down in the corners, and he’s got one hand gripping the edge of the towel in a vice-like grip. He’s taller than Yunho remembers him being, because it’s very clear that he went to war with the bath towel and lost, and it gave him two options. Cover your nipples, and risk flashing the entire freshman dorm, or cover most of your sixpack and waist, and risk poking someone’s eyes out but avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit.  

All in all, Yunho’s already buzzed, broken mind is reeling. It’s lucky Shim Changmin turned 18 well before they got back on campus this semester, because otherwise _Yunho_ would be the one fielding sexual harassment lawsuits.

It’s possible that conversation has restarted around them, even though more than a few of the girls and several of the boys can’t seem to stop glancing at Shim Changmin.

Yunho wouldn’t know. Yunho left his higher facilities up on the 12th floor.

“Yurobbong.” Heechul-hyung sounds like Christmas has come early. “Put your eyes back in your head.”

One of Shim Changmin’s freshman--Amber Liu, Yunho’s brain helpfully points out--snorts before she can help herself.

Yunho wishes for slow, slow death and for the school not to have dumped all the international students into the freshman dorm he was in charge of.

“Um,” he says, when it becomes clear that Shim Changmin wants him to say something, and that something should probably be “sorry for ogling you I promise I’m not a creep”. “Why were you in the shower at 4AM?”

It’s possible he’s actually managed to be speaking English, because the other RAs around him all crowd in to thump him on the back for some dumb reason, but Yunho is far too busy being crushed at the way Shim Changmin’s eyelashes flutter and his lips tremble for one split second before he’s scowling, and looking like he’d cross his arms across his chest if he wasn’t too busy holding the towel up to cover his modesty.

“I was at the gym,” he replies in Korean, voice terse and a little raspier than Yunho remembered it. “Yunho-hyung.”

There’s a beat.

Yunho closes his mouth so quickly he tastes blood.

The thirty minutes it takes for them to be cleared to go back into the dorm could not last longer.

\--

“Wow,” Boa says, when Yunho tells her about it the next day over tea at the Hungarian Pastry Shop on the corner. “Your life is so hard, Jung Yunho.”

“Oppa,” Yunho corrects, mostly for show at this point.

Boa raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, only partly for show.

Yunho throws his hands up in defeat, and then sighs. “Boa,” he says.

Boa sips loudly from her drink across the table from him, unimpressed.

Yunho needs better friends.

“I’m a multimedia heir,” Boa says around the rim of her cup, entirely unbothered. “You’re lucky I’m your friend.”

“I’m the heir to medical empire,” Yunho retorts, trying for dry and cool, but mostly ending up with unconvincing.

“Uh huh.” Boa takes another loud, slurping sip of her tea that somehow still manages to scream heir to Kwon Industries, able to buy you five times over.

Yunho wishes to God he could find it in him to want to marry her. His father would sign the company over to him on the spot.

“You’re so mean to me,” Yunho says.

“You’ll get over it,” Boa says. “Also. I can’t believe you never knew Shim Changmin was ripped.”

“Shim Changmin is not ripped,” Yunho finds himself saying, loudly, just in time for the Shim Changmin in question to open the door of the pastry shop.

You could hear a pin drop in the establishment.

Shim Changmin takes what feels like a full five minutes to get from the door to the counter to order.

Yunho is starting to consider just returning to Seoul and finishing his education there. “Boa?” he says.

“Mmm?”

“Kill me,” Yunho says.

“Drink your tea,” Boa says, and then smiles beatifically over at Shim Changmin. “Changminnie,” she says. “How are your classes?”

Yunho really needs better friends.

\--

The second time it happens, it’s on purpose, and Yunho has absolutely nothing to do with it. Because it’s a real honest to God fire drill. It’s the first one of the semester, marked on each RAs calendar and subtly passed around the dorm watering holes so that most of the dorm can be MIA when it goes down. Yunho himself has been prepping his floor for it since the weekend, in between checking in with everyone to let them know the add/drop period is ending and to find out how everyone is enjoying their classes.

Boa comes over the night it’s due to go down so that they can work on an English paper together, and Yunho rues the day he decided to take a Shakespeare course for fun. It means that Yunho has company as he makes his way down the stairs from hell, following the few of his floor charges that are already in the hallway. He hopes it goes quicker than it had last time; he hopes no one has contraband in their rooms when security does a search.

“I can’t believe you wanted the 12th floor,” Boa says, on what feels like the hundredth step. “This is hell, Yunho.”

“It’s not that bad,” Yunho says, spotting one of Shim Changmin’s international freshman--Choi Minho, from Incheon, who’s joined what feels like every single intramural sports club while somehow also playing midfield on the Soccer team--and waving like an idiot.

He smiles when the boy’s head dips in response.

“I like the exercise.”

“You would,” Boa says, voice sounding distasteful, as the door to the 11th floor opens and Shim Changmin steps angrily into the stairwell wearing nothing but a bath towel.

Yunho’s jaw snaps shut very abruptly.

Boa makes a startled surprised noise, but greets Shim Changmin.

The people on the stairs behind them make groaning noises and get one of them to tell them to move.

Yunho and Boa and Shim shirtless Changmin start to do so.

At the very least, Shim shirtless Changmin is not wet and dripping.

“I forgot we had a drill,” he says in Korean, sounding entirely unbothered by his state of undress.

Yunho absolutely does not trust his tongue.

Boa shoots Yunho another too-knowing look. “How old are you, Changmin?” she asks, also in Korean, at least.

“18,” Yunho says at the same time as Changmin, and then very wisely closes his mouth and stares embarrassedly straight ahead. He can get away with that. Just the other day he almost fell and died.

Changmin is still staring at him with one eyebrow raised.

It’s unfair.

He’s shirtless and only wearing a towel and he’s fucking raising his eyebrows at Yunho like Yunho’s the one making an utter fool out of himself.

“We’re Facebook friends,” Yunho says, and stumbles on the stairwell.

Changmin reaches out and grabs him by the arm, expression gone worried now. It puts them close enough that Yunho thinks Changmin might actually be blushing.

But maybe he’s projecting. “Thanks,” he says, voice stiff and informal and awful sounding in the bad acoustics of the stairwell.

“You’re welcome.” Changmin dips his head, expression and tone clipped.

“I don’t know what you were talking about,” Boa says, interrupting the silence before things can get too awkward. When Yunho looks at her curiously, she smirks. “About Changminnie not being ripped.”

This time it’s Changmin who’s stumbling, and Yunho who has to grab him by the bare bicep to keep him from braining himself and probably flashing all of Floor 13. He pulls his hand back the moment he’s done it, heart pounding and blood roaring in his ears, and he pointedly doesn’t look at Changmin for the next three steps.

“Because he is ripped,” Boa says, like the horrible person that she is.

“I do not like you,” Yunho says loudly, enunciating each and every character.

“I’m just saying.” Boa sticks both hands in the air and grins, eyes darting between the two of them gleefully. She’s wearing fucking heels and is somehow managing to navigate the stairs both without looking forward without fucking dying. “You’re the one who dared to say he wasn’t.”

“I did not!” Yunho protests.

“He did,” Boa continues. “He lied.” She gives Changmin another once over. “Is it bad if I do this? Do you mind? I’m not your superior like he is.”

“Technically speaking we’re equals,” Changmin says voice dry. “But also, yes. I do mind--”

Yunho starts to feel horrified on Changmin’s behalf--and even more sickeningly guilty--but before he can drag Boa away to tell her off, one of Changmin’s freshman--Cho Kyuhyun, Yunho thinks--comes barreling up next to Changmin and drapes an arm around him.

“Shim Chwang,” he crows in Korean, unbothered. “Don’t lie.”

Changmin shoves him off angrily, ears suddenly flaming. “Cho _Kyuhyun_ ,” he hisses.

Yunho congratulates himself for the name thing.  

“He’s lying,” Kyuhyun says, voice perfectly polite. “He totally didn’t forget about the fire drill.”

“Cho Kyu _hyun_!” Changmin hisses, voice shrill and high.

“What?” Kyuhyun looks unbothered. “You didn’t.”

Changmin looks like he’s seriously considering shoving the kid down the stairs.

Yunho remembers rather suddenly that Changmin’s the same age as all of the freshmen he’s in charge of. He doesn’t remember much of him from their Freshman year, but the fact that he was 16 years old had gone around their year like wildfire.

It must be really weird being the same age as everyone.

They’ve reached the bottom of the stairwell and file out onto the sidewalk.

The other RAs catch sight of Changmin and collectively whistle, amused.

“What’s wrong, Shim?” one of them calls. “Forget to check your calendar?”

Changmin rather gleefully flips him off.

“It’s because you said he wasn’t ripped,” Kyuhyun continues explaining Korean, entirely unfazed by the exchange. “He wanted to prove you wrong.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Kyuhyun,” Changmin says through gritted teeth. He shoots Boa and Yunho actually worried looks. “Sorry. I wasn’t. It was just a dumb joke, and then Kyu stole my clothes.” He elbows his friend in the side sharply when he finishes, and then gives Yunho his full attention, mouth turned down.

“It’s fine.” Yunho feels a little like he’s kicked a puppy. “I mean, I’m kind of to blame for you getting caught the first time, anyway.” He rubs at the back of his neck.

“What?” Changmin’s face goes carefully blank, but Yunho pays it no mind, too busy feeling incredibly relieved to finally be telling someone not Boa.

“Yeah.” He glances around to do a quick count of his floor. “I fell and hit the alarm.” He’s so thankful they’re not speaking English right now.

“Huh.” Changmin’s tone is doing something odd, but Yunho doesn’t pay it any mind, too busy frowning at an exchange between two of the boys from Floor 5 and one of his from the suite at the end of his hall. Henry, he thinks his name was.

“Anyway, it was really nice to finally talk to you, Changminnie,” Yunho says, and smiles brilliantly before starting off towards Henry and his new friends, one of which looks a shade too shovey for Yunho’s tastes.

“Changminnie,” he thinks he hears said after him, but he’s too busy playing white knight and obnoxious resident assistant to bothered.

In hindsight, he probably should have paid more attention.

\--

When this is all over, Yunho is going to personally find a way to get out of class early so that he can take the first plane back to Seoul and _murder_ Kim Heechul. Who the _fuck_ takes the wrong towel when they leave? Who the _fuck_ owns a pink towel entirely covered in Kakao friends? Who the fuck owns a pink towel covered in Kakao friends, brings it across country borders to visit their beloved dongsaeng, and then leaves it with said dongsaeng so that when the fire alarm goes off at 11PM at night on  Sunday, the only thing Yunho can do is wrap himself up in a pink towel covered in Ryan and company.

The thing is not nearly big enough for Yunho to do more than cover his non-existent six-pack and pray for sweet, sweet death as he passes his somewhat shell-shocked freshmen and heads down all twelve flights of stairs. The building is unfairly freezing for it being summer. Yunho’s afraid his balls will never return from the war.

He’s greeted by a barrage of whistles and back claps from his fellow RAs when they get to the bottom of the stairs, where a chunk of the freshmen disperse with all the annoyance of people forced to do a fire drill three times over the course of one week.

Changmin is standing up the stairs to the student union with Cho Kyuhyun and Choi Minho, both of whom are whispering avidly to him and grinning.

Yunho would say they’re all looking at him, but Yunho is too busy pretending no one is looking at him. Maybe if he ties the towel really well, he would feel comfortable enough to let go of it long enough so that he could cross his arms or something. As it stands, it’s really taking all of his self-control to keep from hunching protectively in a corner.

This is what hell is.

Hell is being forced to stand naked in a courtyard in a position of power while the fire department and campus security go through two-hundred plus rooms making sure everyone’s gotten out to their standards.

“Hey, Jung!” one of the less savory RAs shouts, the one from Floor 3, and who is potentially on one of the sports teams. “Nice tits!” He’s been joined by a bunch of his friends and, like every bad American film stereotype, has started tossing around a football.

There’s a chorus of laughter, and then ball comes whizzing by worryingly close to Yunho’s balls. “Very funny guys,” he calls back in English, trying not to sound too bothered, fully aware that the goal is to make him let go of the towel.

“Hey, you!” one of them shouts. “Pass me the ball!”

One of Shim Changmin’s freshman picks up the ball, lips pursed, and after a minute pause, tosses the thing back half-heartedly.

Yunho is too busy staring at the sky wishing for death to see more than the tail end of the spectacle, which he later finds out began with Shim Changmin ripping the ball out of the air and pelting it straight into the guy’s gut so hard that for the next week all Yunho sees of Shim Changmin is him frantically dodging coaches and upperclassmen outside the gym and in the dining halls.

\--

“I can’t believe you haven’t noticed, Yunho-hyung,” says Hyukjae, somehow managing to sound rude even with the honorific. It’s Wednesday, too early for drinking so all of them are on soda, and Yunho’s been studying for so long he’s starting to worry his brain has gone out his ears.

Hyukjae and Donghae live just off campus in one of the student leased apartments, because Donghae’s father owns like five restaurants and hotels or something and unlike Yunho, the two of them had absolutely no emotional ties to their freshman dorms. Yunho would hang out with them more often, but his room’s too small by comparison, and usually Yunho tries to be around in case anyone needs him.

Hyukjae is staring at him bemusedly, so Yunho quirks his head at him.

“Changminnie is clearly in love with you,” says Hyukjae.  

Yunho chokes on his soda and has to be pounded on the back a few times by an equally bemused Lee Donghae.  “Yah,” he says when he’s done. “Lee Hyukjae.”

Hyukjae looks unbothered. “Yunho. Dude.” He switches languages so quickly and easily that Yunho is almost jealous of the fact that he’s lived in New York all his life. “The kid’s like. Not subtle at all.”

Donghae pokes his head into Yunho’s line of sight and nods. “Not subtle,” he affirms in Korean. “Like. It’s almost painful.”

“Also, I heard from Sooyeonie that he totally pulled the fire alarm that night.”

Yunho puts his soda down because he feels like if he tries to drink more he may choke to death and die. “What?”

“Shim Changmin.” Hyukjae is still speaking English. “Sooyeon’s sister Krystal lives on his floor.”

“You mean Jessica,” Yunho says slowly, head starting to ache a little. Classes were long and hard and filled with foreign languages. Hyukjae’s one of Yunho’s favorite people on campus, and Donghae’s boyfriend, but the casual bilingualism is the worst thing. Although he does love it when Hyukjae forgets weird words in Korean and spends like twenty minutes struggling to describe them to Yunho and Donghae. Last time that happened it was ‘skunk,’ since part of New York is currently experiencing an endemic, and Lee Hyukjae trying and failing to explain ‘skunk’ in Korean--and ultimately shouting the English word over and over while slamming a pillow across his face while Donghae and Yunho filmed it for posterity--was one of the better nights Yunho’s spent on campus.

“Yes.” Hyukjae yawns. “Anyway, Krystal said that Changmin pulled the alarm two weeks ago. When you got caught with your pants down, as it were.”

Donghae grins, and slaps Yunho on the back. “It’s too bad we couldn’t be there.”

Yunho casts a glance around their fancy, off campus apartment. “Oh boo hoo,” he says. “It’s so bad that the two of you have to live all by yourselves in this fancy apartment that you have all to yourselves.”

“It’s the least Father can do,” Donghae says, tone sober suddenly. “I bet if you asked--”

“I’m perfectly happy pretending to have nothing to do with Jung Medical, thanks,” Yunho says, cutting that conversation off right at the pass. “But what does pulling the fire alarm have to do with him being in love with me?”

Hyukjae and Donghae start to shake their heads at him and then stop. “Wait?” Donghae licks his lips quickly before continuing. “You’re serious.”

“It just means he’s a dick,” Yunho says, and for once, he loves English.

Hyukjae mutters something under his breath that gets him elbowed in the ribs by Donghae.

“Yunho-hyung.” Yunho’s first New York friend stares at him earnestly with too wide eyes, before reaching out to hold Yunho by both cheeks. “I mean this in the best possible way, but you are an idiot.”

Yunho reaches out to palm Donghae right back, mindful of the way Hyukjae fake protests the touching. “Donghae-yah,” he says. “You’re even worse.”

Donghae pinches Yunho’s cheeks, hard. “Whatever, man,” he says. “Not my fault you’re too blind to see it.”

Yunho ignores him, picking up his soda. “Was Krystal sure that Changmin pulled it?” he says, brain mulling things over. “Like, it could have been another freshman prank.” They actually had one two days ago and none of the RA staff came out half naked. More than a few freshman came out tipsy, but that was another story.

Donghae and Hyukjae exchange an odd look, before turning back to Yunho. “She was sure,” Hyukjae says. “Why?’

“No reason,” Yunho says, and takes a long swig.

\--

Getting on Choi Minho’s good side is surprisingly easy.

Yunho knows the floorplan and room layout of all the floors in the dorm, because all the RAs know that. So, he knows that Changmin’s room is directly below his next to the elevator, but he also knows that Minho and Kyuhyun are sharing a suite with Junmyeon and Jonghyun directly across from it.

He rules the latter three out as potential accomplices simply because he doesn’t know Junmyeon or Jonghyun all that well. Also, of the four of them, Minho seems the least mischievous, and also of the _five_ of them, Changmin and Kyuhyun seem closest. Yunho supposes it makes sense, since they’ve been friends since Changmin’s freshman year--and the student rumor mill says that Changmin’s the reason Kyuhyun even picked the school in the first place.

So Choi Minho it is, then, and amazingly, Choi Minho knows Choi Siwon, who Yunho tutored briefly Sophomore year when he took some religion courses. Two kkt conversations later, Yunho has a meeting with Choi Minho over coffee in the Hungarian Pastry Shop.

He’s had to buy Minho three almond horn crescents and a tea, but at least refills are free so he won’t be eaten out of house and home. “So will you do it?” Yunho says.

Minho finishes polishing off one of the crescents and gives his index finger a lick. “Mmm. Delicious,” he says. “Thanks, Hyung.”

Yunho smiles before he can help himself, pleased. “They’re my favorite,” he says.

“They’re Changmin-hyung’s favorite too,” Minho says, with a wry little smile.

Yunho takes it back. Of the four of them, Minho is the worst. Unfortunately, Yunho’s given away too much to back out now. “Oh, are they.”

“Yep.” Minho swipes his hands together to get rid of the last bit of crumbs, and then leans forward in his seat.

He’s almost as tall as Yunho, definitely more handsome than Yunho, and what the fuck, he’s a freshman. At least five girls have said hi to him over the course of his first almond crescent and his phone has gone off pretty much nonstop for the entire conversation.

Yunho would be jealous, but mostly Yunho is just impressed.

“So.” Minho steeples his hands together in front of him on the table. “You want me to text you whenever Changmin-hyung showers.”

Yunho casts a quick look at the doors of the shop and is thankful that no one is standing there who speaks Korean. “Thank God for bilingualism,” he says.

Minho just keeps looking at him.

“Yes,” Yunho says. “That is what I’m asking you to do.”

Minho blinks a few times.

Yunho prays he doesn’t get roped into an elaborate bribery ruse.

“Sure,” Minho says. “But promise you won’t do anything bad. Like take pictures or something.”

Yunho makes a face, a little hurt. “Ugh, no,” he says. “All I want to do is pull the fire alarm when he’s in there.”

Minho’s eyes widen briefly, but then he composes himself. “Oh, okay,” he says, and then sticks his pinky out between them. “I’m in.”

\--

\--

“Choi Minho.”

“Yunho-hyung, hi!”

Yunho resists the urge to press a finger blatantly to the bridge of his nose. “For the last time. Please stop using codenames.”

“Aw, you didn’t like my literature references?”

“I thought they were fine,” Yunho says. “Donghae thought they were the funniest shit he’d ever seen in his life and has yet to stop calling me that.”

As if on cue, Donghae pokes his head around a fucking rosebush and raises his hands to cup his face. “YO MOBY DICK-HYUNG!” he shouts. “HOW ARE YOU?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a brief moment and counts to ten.

“I think it was clever,” Minho says.

Yunho gives in and pinches at his temples. “The whale was Moby Dick, Minho,” he says. “The man was Ahab.”

There’s a pause.

“Ah.”

Yunho heaves a small sigh.

“My bad.”

Yunho bites at his bottom lip, and then manages a smile. He reaches out to pat Minho on the arm. “It’s fine,” he says, still smiling. “Thanks for helping me.”

Minho is staring back at him, but he actually looks horrified.

Yunho is for a second worried. He’d stayed over with Donghae and Hyukjae the night before, after very kindly bothering Justin on Floor 13 to make sure none of his freshmen died. Of course, unfortunately, that same night Changmin decided to shower right when Yunho was in the bathroom taking a piss, so he came out to a text from Minho that read, ‘ _Yunho-hyung. Guess who’s getting in the shower_?’ and two very amused and gleeful best friends.

And then Yunho had had to show them the other texts (from several other times during the week when Yunho was nowhere near the goddamn dorm and not at all going to rush home to pull the fire alarm, honestly, what was Minho’s problem). Unfortunately for Yunho, all of those texts featured Minho’s less than stellar codenames, the highlight of course being the aforementioned dick joke.

This morning Yunho hadn’t had time to do more than leg it across town to class and he wouldn’t put it past Donghae to have foregone literature appreciation and just drawn a dick somewhere on him.

“Minho-yah?” Yunho says, taking his hand back and rubbing nervously at his face. It was fine when he checked it in his phone camera two minutes ago.

“Nothing,” Minho says finally, smiling unconvincingly. “See you later.” He gives Yunho a mild bow, and then hurries across campus with his bag over one shoulder.

Yunho watches him go with his eyes narrowed.

\--

One incredibly successful fire drill later (bless Minho), Yunho stumbles home from hapkido practice at 11PM exhausted, sweating, and rank. He walks into the building, trundles over to the front desk, smiles for the poor student tasked with desk duty, swipes his ID, and then heads for the elevator. It takes him three tries to get it to arrive.

The student on desk duty doesn’t even look up from her calculus homework, but Yunho gets it. She’s the night shift, and no doubt the night shift is the worst shift.

It feels like the elevator is moving at the speed of molasses, which is good for Yunho’s image, definitely, since it gives him plenty of time to stop nearly falling over dead on his feet, but also means that by the time he makes his way to the 12th floor, Yunho is basically dead walking anyway.

He unlocks his room with his eyes half closed, stumbles his way out of his shoes and clothes, and then staggers into his bathroom for a quick rinse off under the spray.

Halfway through his shampoo and conditioning routine, Yunho has maybe started in on the latest Girl’s Day song--and he’s doing the thing justice, might he add--when the fire alarm goes off.

It takes Yunho’s exhausted brain about three notes and suspender twirls before he realizes that’s what that noise is.

And then he groans, well and truly tired, and curses the fact that he can’t do more than dip his head upside down and count to ten. If he’s lucky, that’ll have washed out almost all of the suds; if he’s not, he’ll get to gather outside covered in shampoo.

Yunho’s never been very lucky. Turns out, he’s not about to start now.

He runs into Minho on his way down the stairs after the ten people who were still in their rooms on Floor 12.

“Yunho-hyung!” Minho says, and then, bites his lip. “Shit, fuck.”

Yunho would tilt his head at him, but he’s currently trying to keep from losing an eye to shampoo. He’d also had the foresight to say fuck it and pull on boxers before leaving the room this time, so he’s less concerned about the towel falling down and able to have his hands free.

Minho’s eyes glide around Yunho’s collar bones and shoulders. “Fuck,” he says. “Listen, it wasn’t on purpose, or anything, I swear.”

Yunho is starting to have a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I have no idea who he bribed on your floor, though,” Minho hurries to finish, before Shim Changmin comes charging out into the stairwell looking gleeful.

“Yunho-hyung,” he says politely.

Yunho’s eyes narrow. A clump of shampoo suds decides then and there to fall down his temple and land pointedly on one of Yunho’s bare feet.

The students behind them in the stairwell shift nervously, and Yunho starts walking again.

“Nice look.” And Changmin has the audacity to _smirk_.

Oh, it’s _on_.

\--

“Is this…a mating dance?” says Boa, with only mild concern.

Yunho ignores her, fumbling around under his bed in search of his slippers. Minho’s got practice for some fucking ball sport tonight, which he’d only thought of to tell Yunho the moment before he was due to the athletic fields. This means Yunho has two options: forgo his and Changmin’s war and risk losing face, or sneak downstairs and wait outside Changmin’s door for the first sounds of running water.

Yunho finds the slippers, punches the air, and goes for his ID and wallet. And phone.

“Can you stay here in case anyone needs me?” he asks Boa.

His friend lifts one eyebrow.

Yunho considers pouting. “Boa.”

“Dude,” Boa says in English. “Yunho. Bro.”

“Bro,” Yunho parrots back.

“You are sad,” Boa says, then she gives Yunho’s room a once over. “I mean sure, I’ll stay. If you’re cool with me cleaning and maybe doing some furniture rearranging--”

Yunho’s physically shuddering before he can help himself. “Never mind it’s fine--I mean it’s Thursday, but it’s still early enough that no one’s going to die or anything.” He reaches out to knock on his shitty plywood desk. “Come with.”

“Sure.” Boa grabs her own shoes and phone. “Because sitting like a creep outside Shim Changmin’s room is _absolutely_ my idea of a good time.”

Yunho pouts at her.

Boa sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Jung,” she says.

Luckily for them, Changmin heads into the shower at a moderately normal hour; they only have to camp out and play shitty mobile games and smile prettily at Changmin’s freshmen for twenty minutes before the sound of running water is audible to Yunho, who lost five rounds of Rock Paper Scissors in a row and was put on ‘stick your head next to the damn wall and _listen_ , Yunho don’t be a baby’ duty.

He lets Boa pull the alarm this time, because contrary to what she espouses, he actually is a good friend.

\--

That Monday, when Yunho has absolutely no morning classes, his phone rings at 7AM. It’s Hyukjae, he sounds super apologetic, but also bears the grim news that Boa is sick with something that may or may not be mono but is probably just flu. Hyukjae was going to cover her section of whatever the hell Political Science course during their study session, but something came up and now he needs Yunho to pretty please go do it for him.

If Yunho were more awake, Yunho  would say that it was more something went _down_ than something came up--and that that something was probably Lee Donghae, given the state of Hyukjae’s voice--but Yunho’s too tired to do more than agree so he can go back to sleep for a few more minutes.

Changmin showered at like 12AM last night, which meant that by the time Yunho got around to sleeping it was near 2AM, so he’s running on like five hours of sleep. Yunho would agree to anything at this point.

“Love you, Hyung,” Hyukjae says. “You’re a life saver.”

“Mmm, don’t break Hae’s heart,” says Yunho, and puts the phone down so he can sleep.

Twenty minutes later and he’s woken by pounding on his door.

“Hyukjae-hyung sent me,” Changmin says when Yunho pulls the thing open. “Oh my God you’re naked.”

Yunho blinks sleepily up at Changmin, then down at himself, and shuts the door with a panicked yelp. “ _Sorry_!” Well that’s certainly woken him up. To be fair, he doesn’t normally sleep nude, but he’d also tried to have his own shower the night before, only getting back into the dorm around 1:30AM and having to make awkward eye contact with most of his floor when they all made their way back to their rooms had made the decision for him. “Sorry,” he says again, even though most likely Changmin can’t hear him.

Yunho stumbles over to his dresser and grabs for the underwear and clothes.

There’s muttering from outside his door, so Changmin hasn’t left, but it’s not intelligible. Yunho is fine with that.

Yunho tugs on an oversized YSL t-shirt and jeans, stuff his bare feet into sneakers, and checks for his ID and wallet before pulling open the door.

Changmin’s eyes go automatically down Yunho’s body like he can’t help himself. “You’ll want a coat,” he says.

“Right,” Yunho says, rifling through his closet for the first vaguely warm thing he can find. “Sorry, I was half asleep when I apparently agreed to help Boa out.” The first thing he can find might be his favorite YSL sweater--red with leopard print spots and just oversized enough to give him sweater paws. Heechul-hyung had bought it for him during fashion week in Milan, back when he was still talking to his parents and going out with all his model friends.

Yunho puts it on and is automatically nostalgic.

Changmin barely manages to hide his gall. “Yunho-hyung,” he says. “What are you wearing?”

Yunho stares at him in his straight legged trousers, [perfectly cut dress shirt tucking out of a blue and black spotted sweater](http://wearet-tvxq.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/150209_tvxq_airport_changmin_01.jpg), and the [buttery soft looking blue pea coat](http://wearet-tvxq.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/140117_tvxq_go-to-kbs_max_06.jpg) draped over his left arm.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says. “You are one to talk.”

Changmin’s cheeks flush a little, like this is the first time he’s been called out for the fact that the lot of them are all here on money won simply for being born, and turns up his nose a little, proving Yunho’s point. “We’re going to be late,” he says, and walks off without looking back for Yunho.

\--

“I didn’t mean it,” Yunho says, pressed in close to Changmin in a corner of the library, while the other actual Poli-Sci majors actually study for their midterms.

Yunho would do more, but Yunho hasn’t done more than dress and get teased for his fashion choices, so his empty, growling stomach and the fact that he’s a pre-law business major means he’s been delegated to sitting at Changmin’s side and taking notes to report back to Boa. Because she was the one who was actually qualified to be helping them prep for their midterms, as one of the less tactful students had put it oh so wonderfully. Yunho had just turned his foreigner smile up to 11 and vowed to spend the rest of the session only speaking Korean with Changmin.

Unfortunately for him, Changmin is one of those people who actually uses study sessions to study, so all Yunho has gotten out of him have been a few self-reflexive hmms in response to his questions.

“Changmin.” Yunho nudges his foot against Changmin’s under the table.

Changmin ignore shim.

“Changminnie,” Yunho tries, because what good is seniority if you never use it?

That gets him a little tiny twitch, but no response.

“Changdol,” Yunho decides, and there it is.

Changmin’s ears go pink, Changmin’s hands white-knuckle his text book, and this is so much better than watching water drip down his pectorals.

Well.

Maybe not _better_.

“What, Hyung?” Changmin’s voice is quiet because it’s a library but the tension is palpable. “And don’t call me that.”

“I didn’t mean it, Changmin,” Yunho says, pointedly emphasizing the lack of diminutive. “I know you of all people are more than just your parent’s money.”

That gets him an actual response--Changmin lowering his textbook and actually looking at Yunho in a way that makes Yunho viscerally remember board meetings when he was in grade school.

“My father’s money, you mean,” Changmin says.

Yunho doesn’t actually know much about Shim Corp. He knows the gossip, because Donghae’s tapped into the international and chaebol network, and he knows the _gossip_ , because his father’s secretary mailed over a list of people Yunho ought to become friendly with and of the ten of them, only Boa and Donghae were on it. The others Yunho knows very little about, and that’s entirely on purpose.

Changmin’ still looking at him like he wants a response. “Sure,” Yunho says.

It’s the wrong response, because Changmin just tips his head back down into the book.

“Changdol-ah,” Yunho whines.

“Don’t _call_ me that,” Changmin snaps in English, and the rest of the study group look up at the two of them in mild alarm.

“Sorry,” Yunho says, also in English, and spends the rest of the period sulking.

\--

So, it turns out Boa has more than just the flu.

Boa has mono.

Boa won’t tell Yunho how she got mono, but is flattered that Yunho cares so much, and promises to write home to her father and Kwon Industries to tell Jung Yanghyun-seonsaengnim that she’s going to be part of the family after all. Yunho’s father’s been making thinly veiled wedding comments ever since Yunho accidentally mentioned Kwon Boa in one of his incredibly awkward FaceTimes home. Yunho would never survive the ensuing chaos if he got it in his head that Yunho was going to be marrying Boa.

Yunho very quickly backs out of the room and promises to oversee study group until Boa is healthy enough to be seen out of her dorm room. It’s not a hardship. Hyukjae does what he can, but more often than not his schedule conflicts, and since Yunho has made a point not to have classes that early, he ends up overseeing study group just for shits and giggles and to bug Changmin.

Bugging Changmin is rapidly becoming Yunho’s favorite thing to do, which really should surprise no one, as the entire reason he and Changmin are even talking in the first place is because annoying Changmin is too fun a chance to pass up.

Also his abs.

His abs are a bonus.

But it does mean that more often than not, the two of them walk home together or end up grabbing lunch together. It means that Yunho now knows that Shim Changmin, while something of a notorious loner and adult to the extreme, actually has something of a sweet tooth, and will devour anything in the Hungarian Pastry Shop if you look away for more than a second.

It also means that Changmin’s gone from that obnoxious and hot RA from Floor 11 that Yunho maybe would sort of like to bone but mostly has been making Yunho’s life a living hell, to just Changmin, 18 years old, far, far away from home, and heir to largest aglet company in South Korea

“An aglet company,” Yunho repeats, mouth full of pastry. He finishes with it, stirs his coffee one last time, and then shoves the spoon in his mouth for one final taste. His teeth clink around the metal and it’s kind of disgusting, but he can’t be bothered to take the thing out of his mouth.

Across the table, Changmin makes a face at him, and reaches for the spoon. “Yes, aglets,” he says. “And yes, those _are_ the things that you put on shoelaces.”

“Huh,” Yunho says. “That’s--”

“The worst thing to be rich for, I know,” says Changmin. “We can’t all own a hospital.”

“Three hospitals,” Yunho points out, mostly to be contrary. He winces immediately. “Sorry, that was awful.”

The table next to theirs is taken up by someone who has to be a sophomore art something, given the fact that she’s both covered in paint and bent over the latest CC readings. She doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Yunho and Changmin are talking blatantly about their great wealth. She also appears to be trying to drown herself in Jasmine tea.

Yunho turns back forward in time to watch Changmin shovel more pastries into his mouth. He can’t hold back his horror.

Changmin licks his lips and stares back at Yunho, unbothered. “What? They’re good.”

“I understand why you and Minho are friends,” Yunho says finally.

Changmin scowls. “Ugh, right, he’s your spy.”

Yunho would not go that far. He hasn’t actually used Minho in the past week that he and Changmin have started talking, because it felt kind of cheap and objectifying to be purposefully attempting to catch Changmin with his pants down when just hours before they were out eating or laughing each other silly at various art museums.

Changmin hasn’t pulled the alarm either, and Yunho likes to think it had to do with the fact that Yunho’s only just finished his midterms, and is not just a response to Yunho’s own reticence. Despite that, Yunho’s also been too paranoid for more than a quick rinse whenever he thought he was getting particularly rank.

Changmin is staring at him almost fondly when Yunho checks back into their conversation, and Yunho flushes to what feels like the roots of his hair.

Luckily, Changmin just continues like nothing happened. “I suppose you’re ‘Moby Dick’ in this situation?” He raises his hands up for air quotes, and Yunho realizes that the world really is that unfair. Even Changmin’s fingers are pretty. Changmin immediately puts his hands down, almost self-conscious in his haste. “You have codenames, Hyung,” he says. “How is Minho _not_ a spy?”

Yunho would…perhaps go that far. “Okay, fair,” he concedes. “Evidently he’s not a very well read spy.”

“Ahab doesn’t work as a terrible dick joke, though,” says Changmin, and then he rolls his eyes. “Freshmen.”

“You’re his age,” points Yunho.

Changmin ignores him. “ _Anyway_ , I’m apparently ‘Free Willy’ so like.” He shakes his head. “What is it with Americans and naming whales after penises?”

Yunho chokes on nothing.

Changmin oh so kindly reaches across the table and slaps him on the back a few times. “You  okay, Hyung?”

“Fine,” Yunho manages. “So fine.” He’s going to go straight home, delete and block Minho on kkt, and never, ever think about whales again.

“I’m glad you chose Minho, though,” Changmin continues, after only a mild pause. “He’s loyal and inventive, sure, but he’s never in the dorm.”

Yunho pauses mid bite of his own croissant.

“It’s been nice to have an uninterrupted shower these past few days,” says Changmin, and even has the audacity to smile at Yunho.

He’s got really fucking pretty teeth, which is really fucking unfair, because he’s also really fucking clean, Yunho notices. By contrast, Yunho hasn’t had a decent shower in what feels like ages. He’s seriously started considering investing in some dry shampoo to save his hair.

“Is that so,” he says, watching Changmin murderously.

“Mmm,” Changmin says.

Yunho does his best not to crack his knuckles too ominously.

\--

Over the next three days, Yunho and Changmin pull the fire alarm every single night.

It’s going to go down in history as the worst four days of their dorm’s lives, since it starts with a 11:15PM drill that takes fifteen minutes to be done with wherein Changmin stands shirtless in jeans and mismatched flipflops, and ends with a 4AM drill that takes the full thirty minutes to be done with. 4AM, as it turns out, is a perfect time for a dorm search, since if security has to trudge out of their office then they might as well get their share of the reward. The reward in question of course, is Floor 7’s RA having to lecture her batch of freshmen on dorm rules about candles--scented or not.

Yunho stands there in a bathing suit with his hands clasped protectively in front of his dick, fully aware that this one is entirely on him. Not that any of the other RAs know for sure at this point since they’ve had a few standard pranks from some members of the band, but Yunho knows. Yunho knows more than some of his dorm mates are pissed by the constant parades out to the street at odd hours of the day, and so Yunho has made a point to keep his showers to normal waking hours.

Changmin’s started doing it too, although Yunho won’t pretend that that’s his doing. He knows firsthand that just the other day Jung Jessica stormed the 12th floor to rescue Krystal from--and this is a direct quote because Donghae told him in tears the next day--Changmin’s cowardly clutches and also to let Changmin know that he really ought to man up and put out and get it over with instead of putting the entire dorm through unnecessary cardio every other weekend.

So like this night aside, the two of them have been in a silent and awkward pact not to fuck up the people they’re technically in charge of while still setting the worst example by engaging in whatever the hell this is in the first place.

But to be fair, these were extenuating circumstances.  

Yunho’s not proud of the fact that he woke up sticky and annoyed and semi-conflicted about his dreams, but by the time he’d remembered he wasn’t supposed to be using the shower after hours, he could already hear the telltale sounds of a scuffle in the hallway. No doubt it was whoever Changmin had recruited to snitch re: Yunho’s showering habits doing war with the rest of his floor to prevent that from happening. And then there was the lovely sound of the fire alarm blaring throughout all 13 floors of the dorm accompanied by profuse swearing.

Yunho would have investigated, but getting off as quickly as possible so as to avoid giving the entire building an eyeful was more important. The orgasm had still left a sour taste in the back of his mouth, because it turns out the wailing of a fire alarm has a severe impact on one’s libido.

The bathing suit was a split second and ingenious solution. Yunho had just been trying to avoid wasting boxers, but he’d happened to pick the only pair of trunks he hadn’t finished cutting the netting out of, so the chafing alone has been enough to keep him from making more of a fool of himself.

He’s still standing outside in a strawberry bathing suit at 4AM while the Freshman mill around giggling and exchanging fucking money.

On the bright side, Changmin full on trips on their way back in the building when two of his freshmen none too subtly force him to file in after Yunho. Really Yunho had had an itch, but he’d maybe leaned into it a little more, letting his shoulder blade jut out rather blatantly and his back muscles pull in a way that a rather drunk Donghae had once confessed to him was rather pretty.

“Nice suit, Yunho-hyung,” says Changmin, interrupting Yunho’s wallowing with an attempt at a tiny smile.

Yunho narrows his eyes at him, actually a little annoyed. Mostly because of the wet dream and the less than stellar orgasm and the godawful bathing suit. But his face must be a menace, because Changmin actually balks.

“This one wasn’t me,” he says and lifts both hands in surrender. “Promise.”

Yunho regards him, not sure if he trusts him.

“Minho and Kyu aren’t even here.”

“You mean to tell me you make Minho and Kyuhyun run up the stairs every so often to check if I’m showering?” Yunho definitely doesn’t trust him.

Changmin’s hands curl at the tips of his fingers. “Oops?” he says.

The next day--at a more reasonable 8PM--Changmin stumbles out of the doors wearing a black and white striped bathing suit looking straight out of a magazine photoshoot, and Yunho turns his eyes skyward and rues the day he ever welcomed Heechul-hyung into his dorm.

\--

“Jung Yunho,” Boa says, sounding quite like she wants to murder him. “I will not ask my father if he can commission you a custom wetsuit that will--” She pauses. “Quote give you fabulous abs unquote.” She air quotes and eye rolls and generally looks about five seconds done with helping Yunho review for his music theory midterm.

On the bed, Yunho groans. “And you call yourself my friend.”

“People don’t catcall you because they respect you, Jung,” says Boa. “Or would you rather you were one of the guys and they were trying to swipe your towel?”

Yunho mulls that over. “Okay, fair.”

“Besides, I thought you were just in it for Changmin,” Boa says, at the same time Yunho’s phone chirps with a new kkt message.

It’s on the desk closer to Boa, so she picks it up. “ _Yunho-hyung_ ,” she reads. “ _Changmin’s in the shower_.” She pauses for a moment. “ _It’s kind of an odd time for him, since he got back from dinner and said he was going to bed early cause he’s got an 8AM study session or something, but I guess hygiene calls_.” Boa stops. “He’s used like twenty kieuks,” she says. “What is wrong with him?”

“Many things,” Yunho says. “I should study.”

“ _He’s been in there for longer than usual, though. Like, usually he just gets in and then get out so that he can primp to look pretty--_ ” Boa breaks off, sounding choked, but Yunho is only listening with half an ear.

“ _Anyway, showering Shim Changmin at 8’oclock._ ” Boa goes to put the phone down and then stops. “ _Holy fuck I think he’s JERKING OFF_ \--”

She’s barely finished the sentence before Yunho is off across the floor, midterm bedraggled braining screaming at him to take this opportunity and milk it for all it’s worth.

“Don’t you dare!” shouts Boa, pocketing Yunho’s phone none too gently and leaping for Yunho. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare, Jung Yunho!” She takes him down like she’s the one doing hapkido, and parks herself on top of him. “It is the end of _October_!”

Yunho struggles under her, whining. “Boa, please!”

“This has gone on for too long!” Boa continues, shoving his hand down into the floor hard when he tries to get up. “Sit down.” She reaches around for a phone--Yunho doesn’t want to risk it and cranes around to make sure it’s hers--and starts tapping away at the screen before Yunho can so much as blink.

“What are you doing?” he says.

“Saving your ass,” says Boa. “Matchmaking.” She finishes her text with a tiny flourish. “Sending Changminnie an urgent text about his Poli-Sci midterm.”

Yunho swallows.

“He’ll see it when he’s done.” Boa shoves a hand into the center of Yunho’s back when he starts to struggle. “And then he’ll rush up to here to talk to me.”

Yunho stops moving. “‘Kay?” At this rate, he’ll need a shower, since lord knows what this floor has seen.

“That’s all I get?” Boa has finally gotten off him, and is dusting off her jeans idly in the corner when Yunho finally manages to unfurl himself into a kneeling position. “A ‘kay’?”

Yunho tilts his head at her.

“I will be your best man at the wedding,” Boa continues, and then reaches around to thieve Yunho’s ID from his back pocket.

Yunho whimpers, life flashing before his eyes. He’s already had three strikes. Paying isn’t a problem, but every time he does it it goes on the bill sent back home, and then he has to face his father’s eternal disappointment at the fact that not only is he pursuing a music minor, but also he can’t remember to take his ID with him whenever he leaves his automatically locking dorm.

“You can have it back once you’ve had Changminnie,” Boa says, and lets herself out.

Yunho stares after her for a long moment, then tips his head downward. “You couldn’t decide she was worthy of playing shower-fire drill war?” he asks, more than a little redundantly. Then he sighs. “Well, at least Shim’s rich,” Yunho decides, before getting up to make good on that shower.

\--

“I’m guessing Boa-noona lied,” Changmin says, the moment Yunho opens the door in sweats, a t-shirt, and still damp hair.

Changmin himself looks like he got out of his shower, saw whatever the fuck Boa sent him, and threw on the first clothes he saw. Unfortunately for Yunho and Yunho’s wellbeing, the first thing Changmin saw was apparently skinny jeans and a sheer dress shirt.

“Kyu wanted to go clubbing,” Changmin explains, when he realizes that Yunho isn’t going to start talking until his nipples leave the conversation. He crosses his arms. “I panicked.”

Yunho lifts his head after a minute pause. “Right,” he says. It’s so unfair that Changmin looks so good and he’s not even all the way done up for clubbing.

Changmin’s looking at him and biting at his lower lip. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I’ll just go, then, since Boa-noona’s a liar--”

“Don’t!” Yunho reaches out and grabs for the first part of Changmin he can find, which turns out to be his right wrist, extended to reach for Yunho’s door knob. Yunho has to take a moment after that, because suddenly his life really is a Kdrama. Only, neither of them are the poor exchange student; both of them are the rich chaebol heir. He swallows, throat bobbing. “Don’t leave,” he says.

Changmin blinks back at him, cheeks looking a little warm.

Yunho winces. “I, uh. Fuck.” He swears, and then keeps swearing, a few of the less refined slurs from his childhood in Gwangju seeping in.

Changmin’s eyebrows lift slowly as Yunho goes on. “You’re not from Seoul?” he asks, at the same time Yunho drags him into the room.

He shuts the door behind him, both hands pinned to the door next to Changmin’s shell-shocked face.

There is a long, not entirely uncomfortable pause.

“Sorry,” Yunho says finally. “Boa took my ID and won’t give it back until I, uh--” He breaks off, at a loss. How does one say, ‘have you’ without sounding both archaic and like a dumb loser?

Changmin stares back him with very wide eyes. And then he lets out a long breath, knocks his head back a little more firmly, and very pointedly and slowly crosses his ankles on the floor between Yunho’s.

Yunho’s eyes drift downward before he can help himself, getting stuck on the skinny, skinny jeans and sheer, sheer shirt, before coming back up to rest on the seam of Changmin’s mouth: too-wide-to-be-pretty-but-really-fucking-pretty and ruining his life.

“Changmin-ah?” Yunho croaks out.

“You should really see what Boa-noona texted me, Hyung,” says Changmin tipping his head back so that the line of his jaw is on full display.

Yunho swallows before he can help himself, own throat bobbing nervously. “Something about your Poli-Sci final?”

Changmin reaches into the depths of his back jean pocket, before pulling out his cellphone.

Yunho tries not to think about how it takes him like three tries to fish it out from the skinny, skinny jeans.

“Nope,” Changmin says, tongue curling around the syllables. And then he tilts the phone screen up, not even unlocked and messages read beyond the lock screen, where Yunho’s own kkt username flashes on the screen next to message ‘ _room for two in there?_ ’.

Yunho’s heart starts pounding. “Jesus,” he swears.

Changmin lets his hand drop down between them. “She’s going to rule the world, isn’t she?” he asks somewhat redundantly.

Yunho follows the glint of the cell phone down along Changmin’s abs, heart well on its way to outer space. “Is that a question?”

Changmin laughs, but it’s a heartless, nervous sounding laugh. “Fair,” he says.

Yunho’s lips purse together quick as you like. “I’m going to kiss you now, Changdol,” he says, at the same time Changmin reaches up to take a handful of Yunho’s still damp hair, and says, eyelashes fluttering, “I thought you’d never ask.”

It turns out, there are worse things than getting interrupted every single time you try to take a shower for the better part of two months; namely, getting interrupted mid-shower blowjob with your newfound boyfriend, because Kwon Boa is the _worst_ kind of friend.

“You go first,” Yunho says, once he manages to figure out he’s not going to get off his knees and is instead just going to stare mournfully at Changmin’s still hard dick and try not to get water in his eyes. “Like. Technically it’s your turn.” That had been the plan pre-make outs and hand jobs anyway.

“Right.”

When Yunho risks looking up, Changmin is panting down at him with two streaks of color extremely high on both perfect cheekbones.

Yunho reaches around his ass for the faucet. “We should pull the alarm in her building,” he says. “You can grab Krystal and we can hold her hostage so Jessica helps us.”

Changmin’s still looking at him like he’s speaking in a foreign tongue.

Yunho furrows his brows. “Am I speaking English?” he stands up, bones creaking against the shitty tile floors.

“No.” Changmin seems to snap out of it, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for a towel and at least boxers.

And then he appears to remember that the whole reason they were in here in the first place was apparently Kyuhyun’s go-to get-Changmin-laid-clubbing-outfit did _not_ include underwear.

“Fuck,” Changmin swears.

“You can borrow one of mine,” Yunho says, only half a panicked thought for the sounds of his floor filing out of the building around them.  

“Fuck,” Changmin swears again, and full body shudders.

Yunho digests the full gravity of that situation, thinks of Changmin in his clothes, and understands.

“Bathing suits,” he decides, grabbing for the uncomfortable strawberry one and their peach counterpoint. “Netting,” he explains, dragging them on with pursed lips. “Now go.”

“Give me a kiss first,” Changmin says, still blushing up to the tips of his ears.

Yunho wants to _marry_ him.

He even wants to marry him several minutes later, when they end up the last two out of the building, emerging in matching bathing suits to an utter roar from the entire building and also, Yunho notes with mild panic, the fire department and campus security.

“Finally,” Boa says, and comes gleefully forward to hand Yunho back his ID. “Your prize.”

Yunho takes it with an eyeroll, and then with a quick, nonverbal exchange, reached around to tug Changmin in close to him. “You’re wrong,” he says. “This is the real prize.”

Boa mimes gagging, even though she’s smiling.

Kyuhyun groans and Minho sticks out a hand demanding he pay up.

Half the dorm ends up paying him, but Yunho is too distracted to care.

He’s too distracted by Floor 11’s RA Shim Changmin, wearingly only a peach covered bathing suit, with his hair damp and flopping into his big brown eyes, which have gone all mismatched and crinkly at the corners.

“Shall we call it a draw?” he says, draping an arm around Yunho’s waist in return.

Yunho lets him, pleased as you like. “Please,” he says. “Only if you admit you lost.”

“Mmmm.” Changmin leans into their halfway hug. “I would,” he says. “But I didn’t really, did I?” And then he rather blatantly cops a feel.

Kyuhyun’s the one miming gagging now, but then he brightens noticeably and demands that _Minho_ (and another alarmingly large portion of the dorm) pay up.

Yunho really doesn’t care. “No,” he says, eyes dipping down and up between Changmin’s mouth and eyes. “I guess we’re both winners, then.”

Changmin grins back. “Yeah.” He lets the word curl up cutely at the tail end.

Yunho kisses him.

“Get a room,” he hears Boa say.

He flips her off without breaking this kiss, and giggles gleefully when he finds that Changmin’s joined him.

It’s very possible that he owes Heechul-hyung a fruit basket.

\--

end.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically speaking, this is an AU of my own AU. I feel like. At this point. It should stand alone as my contribution to the college AU universe. (I could potentially be convinced to write the other one.) I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED. 
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/165049116010/title-baby-you-make-me-hot-like-an-oven) | [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/905477096604147712)
> 
> Reblogs/Retweets/Comments are the bestttttt.


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